


The Dream of the Machine

by Cluegirl



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Trauma, Winter Soldier AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1890843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How so?  You have seen Mainframes, yes?</p>
<p>No, older.  Like the Space program, or the German rockets.</p>
<p>I see.  And this machine.  Tell me what it is for.</p>
<p>I...  I think it is where I will be killed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dream of the Machine

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Steve, it's me, Bucky.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/58602) by Bisouette. 



> This was inspired by [this picture](http://31.media.tumblr.com/5593574d5cedb295560cb1fbdfc1b439/tumblr_n84b5jcdYG1rfr34bo1_500.png) from the talented [Bisouette]().

There is a machine. 

What kind of a machine?

It is... it's tall and narrow. Like a box. Like a coffin, or an Egyptian sarcophagus, but it isn't old. It's brand new.

Go on.

There are people around it. Doctors, and scientists. They tend to some kind of computer array, old, very old computers. Big, with lights and switches.

How so? You have seen Mainframes, yes?

No, older. Like the Space program, or the German rockets.

I see. And this machine. Tell me what it is for.

I... I think it is where I will be killed.

Do you deserve to be killed? In this dream of yours?

No. But I am afraid. I know they will put me inside it, and ... I can feel my heart beating, so hard in my chest that I can hardly breathe.

You fear this death, then?

No. I... No I do not fear death. I think that it will possibly happen, that the machine may... will probably kill me...

But you are afraid.

Of failing. I am afraid I will not be strong enough. I am afraid that my... there is someone. Someone I should be with. Someone who needs me, and if I am not strong enough, then I will fail, and he will die.

I see. So you face this death out of personal attachment rather than loyalty to your homeland.

Not rather than. It is both, I think. But the fear... that is for him. The one I will fail, if I fail. The one who will die if I am too weak for this, and cannot go and find him. The one I... I cannot... Ah... 

Calm yourself. Here. Drink this. 

Thank you. 

Another of your headaches?

Yes. It is passing now. Thank you.

It is nothing. Your health is paramount to the country's welfare. We must get control of these violent dreams not only for your own sake, and for the sake of your colleagues' safety, but for the good of all.

Yes. I understand.

Do you?

I... I do. Yes.

Then carry on. Tell me what happens with this machine.

I am put inside it. Strapped to a table, like when. Um. My treatments. There is a kindly man, who gives me penicillin by injection.

You know this for fact? That the injection is nothing else?

... No, but he would have no reason to lie when there are other injections afterward which he does not explain.

So you trust this man.

I do. I... I do trust him. He will die though. He always dies. I do not know it yet, in the dream, but he always dies.

Tell me of these other injections.

They... burn. No, that's not right, they... They itch, they glow, they fill me up like light. I feel as if I would float off the table, had they not strapped me down, like there should be blue fire dancing in waves across my skin. And that is when they close the machine. The coffin. I am trapped inside, and I am so... so cold.

I see. And this is why you damaged your sleep unit and assaulted your handlers last week? This childish dream of being buried alive?

No, there is pain as well. It is sudden, and it is... terrible.

You have never feared injury before this.

This is not injury. It is... bigger. It is being unmade. It is destruction.

Ego. You cling to personal, selfish wants, even as you claim to love -

I do! I do love the Motherland! And it is not just pain, it is not ego, I told you!

Stop! Your hand!

Ah... damn.

Give it to me. No, never mind the cup, give me your hand. I have forceps for the shards.

But the carpet.

Give it to me now. There. Hold still. You see how foolish this fear of yours is? This nightmare of pains and coffins is nothing real. The sleep capsule is a healing measure -- a restorative that all but erases any injury or pain that may come to you in your duty. Even a tiny, foolish hurt like cutting yourself on china is healed within your true obedience, your commitment to the good of your country. The death of the self is no great loss when you are reborn as part of the whole, yes?

Yes.

So grudging? In this dream, I will guess it, you emerge from the coffin a stronger, better man?

I... yes.

And your hurts are healed? Your weakness, your labored breath, your fear? Once the pain has left you, it takes the weakness along with it?

It does.

Then you see, it is plain what your subconscious tells you. It is natural to fear the surrender of the self -- what horse takes to the yoke without at least a small struggle? -- but you are no animal. You are a part of something much bigger, much wiser than any herd of beasts. You are the mighty arm of a mightier people, but you must not forget that you are but part of the whole -- strong you may be, but not alone. Cut the arm from its body, and it is nothing but bloody meat. Like the scientist, the one in your dream.

The kind one.

The one who dies.

I understand.

You do?

Yes.

Then we may trust you to resist these selfish urges in the future?

I will try.

Your treatments can be adjusted to assist with this, if you are uncertain of your ability.

No... I will do it.

Your colleagues must be safe around you, even when you are adjusting to your orders and briefing.

They will be safe. I will restrain myself.

This mission is not a simple thing. There is no room here for self interest, distraction, or failure. Our enemies will be vigilant, they will exploit any opportunity you afford them.

They will find none.

They will wear at you, they will confuse you. Better, perhaps, that I send another operative. One who is not so... unsettled. A risk, yes, but it seems as if California's decadence and frivolity prove distracting for you.

I am not distracted by California. This place is hollow. These people are the same. They do not understand devotion. Sacrifice.

Shining, selfish children, yes they are. Spoilt and precious, and vainglorious, but with an allure that can undermine the unwary.

I will stand fast.

Yes. Yes, I begin to believe you will. Very well then. I will approve your receipt of orders. You may report to complete your interrupted Treatment and pre-action briefing directly after leaving my office. Your hand is sound?

It will not trouble me.

And your dreams?

They will not trouble me either.

Good. Go now. It is the Americans who will be disturbed when this gilded cog is smashed from their bloated military machine.

I...

Yes?

May I know his name this time? My target?

No. Your handler will see to those details, and she will make sure of your access, and your vantage, and you will see to it that the mission proceeds exactly as we have planned. He will be drunk and unwary, and the accident that takes his life will be a straightforward example of Capitalistic American excess.

I. Yes. Of course.

Do not look so disappointed -- it is not as if you would know him.

No. I... Of. Of course not. 

Of course not.


End file.
